


F(l)ight

by sweetiejelly



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Angsty Schmoop, Gen, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-03
Updated: 2012-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-28 20:37:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetiejelly/pseuds/sweetiejelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When flight is fight. Or, a history of Blaine and the Dalton fight club. Up to <i>Original Song</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	F(l)ight

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a short drabble. Oops? I wanted to explore how the Dalton fight club Blaine fits in with some of the back story we have for him (and Kurt). So this came about.
> 
> Cross-posted to [LJ](http://sweetiejelly.livejournal.com/166551.html).

It’s January first and Blaine is bundled into his coat and scarves and gloves, exhaling warm pockets of air into the cold. He has been making resolutions in his head. This year he’s going to score more solos. They’re going to perform everywhere and not just at Dalton and the nursing home across the street from Dalton. He’s going to gather up enough courage to talk to his father about – about everything.

He cups his hands around his coffee: medium drip – just bitter enough to keep him on edge and mild enough to make him want more. He likes it this way, the way it cultivates his hunger, keeps him sharp. His mother is still in the women’s bathroom on the first floor of the mall. He is sitting outside, not at all shivering. (He’s suppressing the shudders enough to give off the impression at least.)

He looks up, not particularly at anything. Two clouds, amorphous really – he’d be hard pressed to box them into shapes – sit in the cold calm of the sky. Three birds are on the power line, one of them on the side is kicking the one in the middle, making it side step and bump into the third one. Blaine blinks hard, his eyes almost twitching with a memory.

Sadie Hawkins dance at his old school. His friend John. How they went down without wings, pain exploding against the vulnerable of stomachs, the bend of knees. He’s particularly mad about the split lips, how the asshole giving it said it was time for them to kiss… the ground. Blaine swallows down the anger. His lips still tingle sometimes and not in a good way.

He blinks and notes his knuckles, how they are a cold, cold white. He looks up at the birds on the power line. The three birds are still there. The middle one looks defiant – as defiant as a bird can look anyway. It’s stepping bit by bit back towards the bully. It extends a leg, shaking. Then it aims and _kicks_.

Blaine smiles and inwardly cheers. In the next moment, his mom blocks his line of sight and pets his hair. “You ready to go, sweetheart?”

Blaine doesn't have to think about it. “I’m ready."

It’s January first and Blaine makes his final resolution. This year he is going to start arming himself with the ability to stay and fight, to not run away. This year, he is going to start a fight club at Dalton. This year, he will be ready.

\---

The first session of fight club leaves Blaine hungry and sweaty and sore. The abandoned warehouse, found thanks to ‘I know a place’ Wes, echoed with the shuffle of bare feet, the swish of air as a punch or a kick is delivered. Blaine could still feel the indentations of the concrete floor on the balls of his feet and in between his toes. He’s drenched but excited. His side aches from where Wes caught him unawares. On the other hand, his right hook has already improved (on top of his ability to duck).

“Blaine.”

The voice stops him, the way it always does. He looks down from the stairs, a hand gripping the strap of his gym bag. The face that greets him is as surprised as his own. “Dad.”

“Been working out?” His father folds the pages of _Wall Street Journal_ and looks at him over his glasses and his glass of scotch. His father looks almost... pleased.

“Um, yes, I just… got back.” Blaine wants to say more. Like: this is not what you think. I’m still gay. Gay people can like sports and excel in it too, you know? This is to protect my _being_ gay. This is for me, not for you. Also, still gay. But words stick in his throat, punching him in the guts as they fall back down.

“Well, hurry up. Dinner’s getting cold.” His father downs a finger of his drink and strides away.

Blaine sighs. He needs more training.

\---

Blaine taps out less and less often now. He wouldn’t say that he’s martial arts any belt but he can mostly avoid the punches thrown his way and he’s fairly good at getting the other party to tap out.

The bruises on his body are faint, little whispers of dark pink and small coins of deep purple. He touches them sometimes to give him courage. You can do this. You can kiss the sky, not the ground. You can kiss a guy, if you wanted to.

Blaine is rushing down the stairs when he meets Kurt. He turns at the unexpected voice, the unexpected face. He catalogs the pretty eyes and the sweet pair of lips and his impulse takes over. He takes Kurt’s hand and notes how soft it is. He flirts. He knows perhaps he shouldn’t. Kurt’s a spy after all. But Kurt is bright-eyed and readily impressed and Blaine wants to show off some more.

He sings the Katy Perry song right at Kurt. When Kurt smiles and blushes, Blaine feels a surge of adrenaline almost like the one he gets fighting, winning.

\---

When Kurt tells him point blank that he’s been bullied for being gay and how admirable it is that Dalton’s a zero-tolerance school, that different is okay here, not punishable, Blaine feels many things. He feels the spaces between his knuckles aching to connect with Kurt’s bully. He feels the spaces between his fingers wanting to close over Kurt’s hand, soothe.

Instead, he leads Kurt to his locker and gives him a photo of himself from the start of the semester, the photo on his Dalton ID. “I can’t be there at McKinley but maybe I can be there in spirit?” (Blaine also secretly wants to see what it feels like to be a superstar for a moment, giving out photos, signing autographs. It feels _awesome_.)

When Kurt texts him about The Kiss, Blaine’s jaw drops a foot or two. Kurt’s bully…kissed him? He half wonders what he’d have done if his bullies kissed him. But, he couldn’t even imagine it. “Of course I’ll be there,” he promises before he thinks too hard about the reasons. Yes, he wants to be there for Kurt but he is also curious about this bully. He wants to pick his brain, see where exactly he’s coming from. Maybe he could help.

Kurt warns him that Karofsky has no brains (or at least more brawn than brains). Anyway, all of it is moot. Blaine can’t get over how much Karofsky resembles his bully, could have been the big brother to his bully. Anyway, when Karofsky advances on him, he retreats instinctively. Fear pulses where courage was beginning to bloom. _I’m just being smart, picking my fights_ , he tells himself. But he feels an overwhelming disappointment when he sees Kurt deflate all the way to the ground. _My fault._

That night he fights five rounds, fights till no one wants to fight him anymore. He goes home with new bruises and still it doesn’t feel like enough.

\---

Blaine thought about enlisting Kurt in the fight club when Kurt transferred to Dalton. But he remembers how soft Kurt’s hand felt in his and how perfect Kurt hair always seems to be. He can’t see Kurt in the club, doesn’t want to picture him with more bruises. What’s the point? The training has made him stronger and faster, lighter on his feet. But so far Blaine hasn’t confronted his dad. He couldn’t stand up to Kurt’s bully.

Blaine quits showing up. No one asks because well, you don’t _talk_ about the fight club.

He even finds himself advising Kurt to try to blend in. _Don’t get killed_ , he meant. But it just came out sounding like _I’m still a coward._

He starts hanging out with Kurt. Kind of a lot. At first it’s the guilt driving him, wanting to make things right. Then he finds out that Kurt is great company. They have much in common, loving the same things, hating the same things. And they duet well. Blaine finds himself laughing a lot around Kurt and having a great time. Kurt is fascinating, especially when he lets his guard down. And okay, Blaine still feels a bit like a superstar whenever he’s around him. Kurt looks at him _that_ way, like maybe he wasn’t completely useless, like maybe he can do anything.

\---

Blaine drops by the mall just to walk around sometimes, look out at the sky, bird watch. He’s turning from his perch on the balcony railing when he bumps into a tall head of curls and drenches a whole sleeve with his cup of coffee (thankfully cold by this time). “I’m _so_ sorry,” he apologizes and then makes the mistake of looking up.

The guy’s cute. Blaine’s heart thuds in his chest. “How-how about I buy you coffee, make up for this?”

“Okay... I could go for coffee.” Curly extends his hand. “I’m Jeremiah, by the way. Even though it’s no problem. I work at the Gap. They give me fifty percent off their merchandise.” He gestures to his shirt.

Blaine drops by the mall a bit more. Specifically, he drops by the Gap more. A couple of times he manages to run into Jeremiah, treat him to coffee. Blaine has no idea what he's doing, except that he's finally doing _something_ , something to counteract what those bullies did to him years ago.

But when Blaine's finally done planning his big romantic gesture at the Gap for Valentine's Day, he freaks out. "C'mon, man up," Kurt tells him. "You're amazing. He's gonna love you." And Blaine wonders how it is that Kurt is _still_ the one giving him courage, making him feel like he can do anything.

\---

After the Jeremiah fiasco, Blaine starts questioning his life, his choices, about how much he's just _not_ getting. Kurt _likes_ him. Blaine doesn't know what to do with this information. Kurt is his _friend_ and Blaine is screwing up his life. And well, Blaine doesn't want to screw up his friendship with Kurt. Kurt's opinions have come to really matter. Blaine resolves to take things slow. After all, knocks coming in at lower velocity do not hurt as much. He should know.

Blaine considers going back to the fight club. Then his phone rings and Kurt invites him to a party. Blaine says 'yes' mostly to get out of the house and to fight the temptation to go throw punches instead.

At the party, he drinks, mostly because he remembers his dad telling him that real men drink and fix cars and get their hands dirty. Then he drinks _more_ because he started drinking because of something his _father_ said. And then he doesn't remember what happens next very well. One second they are sitting in a circle, Kurt warm and close to him. In the next, he's kissing Rachel and her lips feel warm and sweet, _burns_ against his lips. "Your face... tastes awesome," she tells him. Blaine smiles, because, one, he's _so_ drunk. And two, well, maybe it could all be this easy. Maybe he could bat for _this_ team, the one his dad (and half of Ohio) seems so insistent on. Rachel's lips felt nice. He's sure he felt something. At least, he's pretty sure?

The next day Kurt stops looking at him like _that_ but looks like he's been punched in the guts. Blaine feels the same. Who was Kurt to tell him how he has to be? Blaine could totally be bi and just never met the right girl before. He could like Rachel, probably. She doesn't make him feel the way he felt about Jeremiah or anything but well, she's new and maybe if he got to know her better...

Blaine feels simultaneously relieved and like the biggest idiot in the world when he kisses Rachel for the second time. Their date had gone just fine but there was no heat. He was starting to question his 'I could go for Rachel' theory. Then Rachel kisses him and confirms the absolutely no heat, the-burn-was-probably-from-the-alcohol theory. He rushes to the restroom and texts Kurt. _I'm sorry. Can we talk?_

\---

Nobody says anything when Blaine suggests using the fight club warehouse for a private Warbler performance for the sister school. Well, except for Kurt, who remarks, “The acoustics in this place is amazing.” Blaine gives him a smile because well, Kurt is right. Blaine could still hear the moves in fights, how the air parts like moans and groans around their fists.

He almost falls apart in a moan when Kurt tells him that he’s – he’s completely _innocent_. Except for the watching _those_ movies part. Blaine wants to wrap Kurt up and put him away in a safety deposit box.

Except that’s utterly stupid. The real world is going to happen, to and around Kurt whether he likes it or not.

Blaine isn’t even thinking when he barges into Burt’s garage. He just needs to be brave after failing Kurt so many times, after failing himself. Burt is an entirely different kind of dad. Blaine blurts all these things he would never say to his own dad. He registers the words ‘sex’ and ‘protection’ and ‘party’ and oh wow, he’s gone too far, hasn’t he? Burt confirms it but still looks like Burt and not his dad, which is to say with a kindness that makes Blaine wants to cry.

He doesn’t though. He’s half mortified and completely frustrated. He still hasn’t made any headway with his own father.

Blaine rejoins the fight club.

\---

Death gives a person perspective. Even (especially) the death of a bird. Blaine watches as Kurt sings _Black Bird_ in honor of Pavarotti. Kurt is full of love and grief and courage. No other Warblers would have just _commanded_ a solo like that. No other _person_ has ever moved Blaine this much, filled him with admiration and something like love. Kurt is – Blaine looks at him, really _looks_ at him for the first time. Kurt is tear-stained, head held high in his proud stance. Kurt’s voice feels like the air in the fight club, the way it slices straight through and steals his breath.

For a moment, everything clicks into place and Blaine _gets_ it. _Kurt_ is the person he's in love with, has _been_ in love with. Kurt soars above it all.

At fight club that night Blaine doesn't fight. When Wes shakes him out of his reverie, asks him if he's okay, Blaine tells him the truth. Kurt is his one. He's going to ask Kurt to duet with him at Regionals. Wes gives him a nod. "Very good." Wes squeezes his shoulder. _I'm happy for you._

A sleepless night later, Blaine is standing in front of Kurt in the Dalton dining hall. Instead of feeling like a superstar like that first time they sat in this room, Blaine feels like a boy, just a boy. He's nervous. He hopes he's not too late. He tries to articulate his feelings, watching Kurt's face as he does.

Kurt looks stunned, in a good way. Blaine stops thinking. He swoops down and closes his mouth over Kurt's.

 _You can kiss a guy, if you wanted to._

He is. He is finally. Kurt tastes like coffee, feels like heat. Blaine closes his hands over Kurt's face, soars with him.

One day, he's going to confront his father as well. But today - today, he's going to _practice_ some more with Kurt here, right here on top of the world.


End file.
